


Thank you, Austin!

by SixGoldenWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Destiel Ficlet Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixGoldenWings/pseuds/SixGoldenWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’ve got some..." Cas’ hand came up to place a finger against his lips, indicating that Dean now had flour there. Acting on instinct Dean lifted his thumb to his lips, pressing them to the side to wipe the flour off. Cas’ eyes tracked the movement, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips in response. Dean spotted it and immediately stepped away, wiping his now floured hand on his apron. </p><p>"No way are you getting that crap on me Cas, Don’t even think about it." Dean backed up another step just to be safe when he saw that his sous’ lips had started to lift into a smirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank you, Austin!

  
One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one two three four, it was a rhythm  that was slowly building, the soft thud of the knife hitting the board as Dean chopped through yet another stick of celery for the mirepoix he was preparing to start up a good old fashioned stew. As he reached the end of the vegetable he turned the blade, scraping all the celery in to the centre of the board before holding the blade over it. This was what he was building to, the awesome drum solo, he placed the tip of the knife down and then went to town, eyes closing in satisfaction as the blade flew through the celery, finishing on a symbol crash by tapping the knife against the edge of the counter.    


 

  
"Aaaaahhh! Thank you Austin!!"  H e whispered in a mock rock star voice, opening his eyes back up and scooping the chopped celery up with the blade of the knife and tossing it into the steel bowl that was waiting, already half full with carrots and onion chopped in much the same way. Only a couple more sticks of celery to go and he could get on with the actual cooking. He’d been at this for forty minutes already, had roughly chopped a few more of the trinity to add to the actual stew later, give it some texture, but this lot was all about the flavour. Twirling the knife in his right hand, and stabling the remaining three sticks of celery on the board with his left, he got back to work.    


 

  
Dean had been doing this for years, could do it with his eyes closed and very often did, knife tapping along to the drum beat in his mind. He was proud of this place, bought it six years ago and built it up with nothing but hard work and damn good food. Nothing too fancy, just simple sounding  A merican fare , and  really damn tasty if he did say so himself. And he did, he was not shy about how good his and his mom’s recipes were. He’d started on his own, just him in the kitchen and two servers helping him out . I t was a slow start but he’d quickly picked up regulars .  ”The Burgers, man! The freakin’ Burgers!” Ash had said in what was only the third week ,  and he was still around, so yeah, doing well. Those regulars had recommended his place to their friends, and them to their friends until it actually got to be a pretty big deal.    


 

  
It did almost kill him in the second year . T here was only so much work he could do on his own ,  and his servers, as good as they were, weren’t dealing much better. So he had to expand, bring some other people in, get an actual official ‘sous’ and a pastry chef. He’d gone through seven or eight before he came to people he didn’t want to murder on sight for the blasphemy of trying to change his mom’s recipes.  _If you want it different make your damn own!_   


 

He’d ended up with Gabriel, a guy who took one forkful, stared at the damn cake, stared at Dean, looked back at the cake and snatched the whole damn plate away, like Dean was going to try and take it back. 

 

  
"You’re the devil . " he’d whispered .   


 

"What?"

 

"No way a guy like you makes fucki-" he was still stuffing the thing in his mouth, forkful by forkful "pieces of HEAVEN like that. Lucy, I’m on to you." 

 

"Listen short stuff-" He was interrupted when the guy moaned, all out fucking moaned over the taste of the bitter hazelnut ganache, the sweet caramel sauce and the chocolate sponge holding it together.

 

"No, you’re not getting rid of me now Winchester, I love this" Gabriel pointed to the crumbs on the plate "Well loved, I’m pretty sure I love you for making it" he waved the perfectly clean fork in his general direction. Dean resisted the urge to cringe. "And I’m yours, no take-backs."

 

"I didn’t eve-" 

 

  
"No. It’s settled, I can make these, Dean. I can! And I’m  _oh so_  good. Even got some ideas of my own . ”   


 

  
God only knows why it happened but Dean had sighed in defeat and said “One week, that’s it, a trial . ”   


 

"Oh baby, I’m only going to need a day."

 

  
So yeah, Dean was kind of steamrolled in to having a pastry guy, but Gabriel was every bit as good as he’d said. He had his own specials which sold out almost every day but still did the things Dean and his mom used to make all the time. It was a huge weight off Dean’s shoulders .  Short Stuff worked miracles and made it seem effortless. He’d even asked Gabriel, one night at the local bar, what the hell kept such a damn talented guy at his little place when he could be making so much more elsewhere and Gabriel had just put his drink down, smiled, and said ,  ”Kid, I like you.”  A nd that was it.    


 

  
The other chef Dean had hired was currently in the back room .  Gabriel, the little shit  -  and he could be a little shit  -  had called in and said he would be late . N ot by much, but by enough to royally fuck them over if someone didn’t take care of the initial prep work. So Castiel  -  Dean had no idea how he ended up with TWO chefs with angelic names ,  but he tried not to think about it  -  had taken the work on. Cas could make a mean pastry and was pretty damn good at cake batters ,  and he was fast, efficient, just a great all-rounder.    


 

Usually Cas was at his side, well not quite, but never far away. Butchering or filleting, talking with suppliers over the phone. Cas knew the name of every farmer, every producer, even every animal they used. He cared and he was always appearing at Dean’s side with just the right ingredient, or just the right words to keep him from flying off the handle. Honestly, he had no idea how he’d survived before Castiel had come here and made himself a fixture of his kitchen and his life.

 

  
Still slicing into the celery ,  Dean was feeling rather nostalgic, his mind drifting to the first time Cas had arrived, knife kit in hand and determined expression on his face . H e was brought out of it with a huge bang coming from the back room. Dean jumped, narrowly missing his finger on the downward stroke. “Shit! Cas?!” He dropped the knife immediately and ran to the back room, wiping his hands on his apron. What he found stopped him in his tracks . H e had to press his lips together to stop the smile and the laugh that was bubbling up .  Cas definitely wouldn’t find it as humourous as he did.    


 

  
There was his sous, standing over one of the mixers . T he thing was smoking and flour was everywhere. Cas seemed to be glaring at the thing,  but  it was hard to tell when all of his face had been powdered white. The flour was in his hair and all over his uniform, Dean never made anyone wear chef whites, he sure as hell didn’t, just an apron over his trousers, but Cas had needed the separation  between work and home and had insisted on wearing his all black chef’s whites. Now he looked a picture, the all white at the front slowly starting to fade into a powder and then the black at the back. The same gradient had happened with his hair, odd tufts of brown sticking out like the peaks of mountains from the snow.    


 

  
"You alright?" Dean asked, voice tight with restraint, "You know that thing can’t glare back right?" He couldn’t help but release  a  grin the second Cas turned to glare at him instead. There was flour all over the stainless steel tables, covering the specialist resin flooring that he’d spent a fortune on for a least a metre radius. Even the glass of the combination oven had a spattering. Castiel didn’t look even the slightest bit amused though, wringing his hands in frustration.    


 

"It broke." 

 

"Yeah Cas, I gathered. C’mon, let’s get this cleaned up and get another mix on the go." Castiel finally moved at the words, his shoes leaving perfectly blank spaces in front of the mixer as he took a step toward Dean. 

 

  
"We’ll be behind . " Cas stated, like it was something Dean didn’t already know.   


 

"I get that, the customers can wait." The green eyed man assured, holding a hand out to start brushing the flour off his chef’s arms. 

 

"But Dean-"

 

  
"They can wait ,  Cas. It’s okay. We got this, together, right?” He smiled up at Castiel whose lips twitched, with a protest or a smile Dean wasn’t sure ,  it disappeared so quickly . T hen he nodded, that steely look of determination back in his eye. Castiel began dusting himself off, causing clouds to billow from his frame. Both men had to suppress the need to cough, before Dean held up his hand to stop Castiel mid stroke, holding his palm up to indicate that Cas should just stay there for a second.    


 

He left the room to find a brush and returned moments later, slowly sweeping everything back toward the mixer to avoid as much of a flour cloud as he could. Cas was swiping at his face, looking displeased and a just a little pissed off as he brought the flour covered hand in front of his eyes.

 

  
"Hey," Dean stepped closer, still trying to keep out of the radius of baking materials if he could, and leaned  in , a hand drifting softly to cup the other man’s face. His fingers dislodged some of the flour from Castiel’s hair as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Just a chaste thing to get Cas back on track. Dean made sure their eyes met before he continued. “We got this, no big deal. Okay?” Cas’ anger was usually quiet, focused, very internalized, but the kiss seemed to break through something because that was definitely a smile.    


 

  
"You’ve got some.. . " Cas’ hand came up to place a finger against his lips, indicating that Dean now had flour there. Acting on instinct Dean lifted his thumb to his lips, pressing them to the side to wipe the flour off. Cas’ eyes tracked the movement, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips in response. Dean spotted it and immediately stepped away, wiping his now floured hand on his apron.    


 

"No way are you getting that crap on me Cas, Don’t even think about it." Dean backed up another step just to be safe when he saw that his sous’ lips had started to lift into a smirk. A smirk was never a good thing on that bastard’s face. Suddenly Cas lifted his hands into his hair and ruffled it roughly, flour drifting to the ground like a heavenly spotlight. Immediately afterwards he started unbuttoning his black jacket, revealing a pink t shirt underneath, he worked quickly to avoid the mess, tearing it from his shoulders and then wiping his face on the clean inside. 

 

"Cas? What the hell?" Dean watched rapt as Castiel reached for the fastening on his trousers, this can not be good. "Dude! Stop!" Castiel paused for only a second before dropping his pants, stepping out of them and his shoes to get to the clean floor before he reached for and took off his socks, throwing them on to the floury pile. 

 

  
"I am not going to change into my spare set of clothes when we’ve still got so much to do." Cas explained, but Dean wasn’t really listening . S ure they’d been doing this whole dating thing for maybe two years, actually living together for the last eight months or so, but Dean was still not used to how Cas could do this ; j ust stand anywhere, almost naked and be completely fine with it.    


 

  
It had shocked the hell out of Sam and Dean when the younger brother had visited a few months back and Cas had opened the bathroom door, walked past both of them completely buck ass naked and had only said “Hello Sam, Dean, we need more shower gel.” before he had disappeared into their bedroom to get dressed. Dean and Sam had sat there for a whole five minutes in stunned silence before Dean had shrugged in a ‘ _eh, what are you going do?_ ' way and then, in the way Dean tended to do, he'd chuckled and said “Jackpot huh?” raising an eyebrow in his brother's direction, who had spluttered for a couple of moments . B ut the awkward moment had been broken and Cas had come out just a few minutes more to laughter and a mug of coffee.   


 

  
Now though, Dean knew he had to break this spell, so he shoved the brush in Cas’ direction, stubbornly looking away, because they were not going to get anything done if Dean could not stop staring at his partner’s ass. There was a pressure as Cas removed the brush from his grip and began to use it on the floor. In the meantime Dean grabbed himself a clean cloth and focused on removing the mess from the tabletops and glass panels of the oven. They worked diligently ,  a sort of r h ythm picking up again ;  the sound of the brush against the floor, Cas’ bare feet tapping against the surface, Dean’s hand swiping against the tables, it was almost too easy to pick up  the  feeling of a tune.    


 

It didn’t take much to get Dean humming along to lyrics he didn’t even know. This happened mostly at home, but would happen occasionally when they worked together in the kitchen, standing side by side, right in the swing of things, passing each other plates of freshly cooked food or pans. It made him feel happy, content. His mom used to say that he’d always hum along when he was eating something he enjoyed, that she would make him apple pie just to hear what kind of music he’d come up with. It’s a little strange, but he just figured he never grew out of the habit. 

 

  
Now at twenty nine and in a kitchen all his own, Dean still finds himself content and humming to music he has never heard, and he can’t help but think that his mom would be happy to have seen him like this. Without really thinking about it, he turns to tell Castiel exactly that, only to find the man on his hands and knees and unfortunately facing away.  _When did the brushing stop?_  Is his only thought before all traffic in that area comes to an abrupt halt. Cas carries on cleaning, unaware of Dean’s current situation, the black boxers he wears clinging just right, the muscles of his thighs tensing and releasing with each movement of his hands.    


 

  
It takes a couple of moments of complete silence, but Cas does eventually slow down ,  coming to a complete stop as he raises his head. Cas settles back on his haunches slowly and when he turns it’s with a questioning look on his face before his eyes actually catch Dean staring. Without even using his hands for balance, which Dean will never ever understand  -  stupid sexy yoga  -  Castiel rises back on to his bare feet, slowly turning back to face Dean, unfairly taking away the sight of his perfectly shaped ass. The head chef finds himself licking his lips, tugging the lower one with the tip of his incisor.    


 

  
"You are terrible, we do have a job to do you know . " Cas informs him, taking a step forward with each word until he is mere centimetres away.    


 

  
Dean’s eyes had been fixed to Cas’ mouth the moment he had started talking but he still took a second too long to respond. “you..”  H e frowned, trying to remember what Cas had actually said. “You’re terrible . "  A  brief look of victory passed over Dean’s features when he glanced up to meet his sous’ eyes before he leaned forward and connected his lips to the ones he had been so fixated on mere moments before.    


 

  
There was an amused puff of air from Castiel’s parted lips as he finally stepped out of Dean’s personal space, though this was made difficult by the hand curled around his hip. “Oh, am I, Chef?” Cas murmured, using an authoritative tone that he knew messed with at least two of Dean’s senses. He watched as Dean’s eyes became unfocused and inwardly chuckled when ,  predictably ,  his partner’s tongue instinctively poked out to wet his lips once more.    


 

  
"Yeah ,  you are . " Dean’s eyes refocused at the exact second that he surged forward, and Cas allowed the arms to wrap around his waist ,  in turn curling his fingers into the t-shirt covering the supple flesh at Dean’s hips. Encouraging the action of Dean’s mouth against his throat, Castiel pulled the other man toward him suddenly, causing Dean to jump in his grip and within another second start coughing against his skin, saliva instantly cooling as Dean moved back, covering his mouth.    


 

"Inh-" Dean had to swallow and give one last cough before trying to speak again, eyes watering "Inhaled flo-"

 

"Inhaled all the dicks, Kiddo? If you’d just told me you wanted some alone time I would’ve come in later!" Gabriel’s voice was loud and cheery as he strolled in, barely giving the half naked Castiel and now furiously blushing Dean a glance before he slammed his bag on top of one of the tables. Both of the other chefs were trying to bore a hole into Gabriel’s head, but he paid them no mind, whistling appreciatively as he took in the cleaning effort the two had made so far. 

 

  
"Doing Blow without me ,  too? I’m wounded,” Gabriel didn’t even give Castiel a chance to utter a word from that scandalised face. “I demand you leave my kitchen and let me get back to work!” Gabriel dramatically pointed toward the main kitchen, finger shaking to emphasize his mock anger. Obediently, Castiel gathered his soiled clothes and started toward the door ,  still barefoo t.  Dean appeared at his side and nudged his naked shoulder.   


 

"Continue this later?"

 

"Later" Castiel replied with a smile.

 

—42 short months earlier..—

 

"I wish to speak to the manager." An all too serious voice called out in the empty dining room forcing Dean to sigh as he stood. 

 

"What did Jo do this time?" he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth through habit. 

 

  
"Jo? No, I am here to see the manager, I believe there’s an opening for a sous chef here?" Mr .  Serious spoke again, his tone indicating that he was looking around the place and was not particularly impressed.    


 

"Yeah and you’re-" Dean automatically regretted actually looking at the guy, he was incredibly good looking in a quirky kind of way, the shock of it making him bump into one of the tables and destroying the annoyance that was building at the guy’s attitude. "Seein- You’re seeing ‘im." Nailed it. 

 

"You’re the manager?" Blue eyes widened marginally as the information sunk in, pupils flicking downwards, sizing him up. 

 

  
Dean took the opportunity to gather himself, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to make himself feel the importance behind the following statement, “Owner too ,  actually. So ,  you got a name? ‘Cause calling you ‘Mr Stick-up-his-ass’ will probably get old quick.”   


 

The man seemed taken aback, first by the knowledge that Dean actually owned the place, and secondly by the crass way he had been addressed. He frowned but visibly took a breath to calm himself before speaking again, though, again the tone was clipped. 

 

"Uh, Castiel. Castiel Novak." The man said cautiously now finally realising that Dean actually held some power here and maybe regretting coming in to the restaurant in the first place. 

 

  
Dean cast him a smile, going to pat the guy on the shoulder before stopping himself and clicking his fingers together instead, might be weird to do that to a guy when you’d just met and weren’t entirely sure of each other yet. “Alright Cas, I think we got off on the wrong foot here, on account of you being an ass ,  but I’ll still give you a shot.  One hour, in my kitchen. That’s it. Make a good dish, tell me about yourself, give me a good reason to hire you and I will. Fair enough?”    


 

Dean held his hand out for a friendly handshake and Castiel looked at it with a hint of confusion before shaking it hesitantly. “Fair enough”

 

—-

 

Just over an hour later and Dean was wondering if he was already picking up bad habits from Gabriel because he was practically salivating in between bites of beautifully braised beef cheeks, perfectly cooked and seasoned kale and crushed potatoes with a dark but oh so smooth sauce made from the cheeks’ cooking liquor that coated his pallet in all the right ways.

 

  
"Oh ,  Fuck me..” he mumbled, mouth still full and sensed dazed. He took a couple of seconds to savour and swallow before he looked up at Cas, who was already smiling, that asshole. “This is good Cas, Real Good.”   


 

"That was the desired effect, yes." His new sous chef replied calmly, how was he not shoveling this food in to his mouth? Fuck, how did he resist devouring every single thing he made?

 

"You’re hired." Dean said, turning his attention back to the plate. 

 

"I’m hired? No trial period? Dean I appreciate the gesture but I have only actually cooked one plate of food." 

 

"No trial. Hired. Trust me on this, Cas. Going on faith over here, and if it ends up being a mistake, you’ll be fired, but this is good, man, this is right, so I don’t think that’s going to happen." Dean held up his hand to stop the protests he was sure Cas would start to come up with, but the stunned silence only lasted a few more seconds. 

 

"And the stick up my ass?"

 

  
"We can definitely work on that." Dean was so absorbed in the food that it took a few moments for what he had said to sink in. He spluttered as soon as he realised. "That! That-  You know what I mean.”    



End file.
